Karl Ruprecht Kroenen: Agony
by TalvisotaKroenen
Summary: How did Kroenen become the emotionally disturbed, probably deelpy sad and lonely Angel of Death he is in the Hellboy movie? Here you will read a possible answer. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Agony

Chapter I

He sits in his corner. Silent, except for the steady, soft ticking coming from his chest. He slowly rocks back and forth; a behaviour he developed over the last decades as a result of close to none stimulation from the outside world. When the Americans had spotted the castle in Norway, Ilsa and Kroenen had been forced to flee in a hurry, only taking with them what they could carry. Most importantly everything that had to do with the Master and the art of resurrection. Almost no personal items, they had left behind nearly everything. And for Ilsa - she didn't talk to him very often. Either because she knew he wouldn't respond anyway, or because she couldn't stand being in his silent presence. He preferred to think it was because she was afraid of him. An aura of loneliness and pain seemed to surround him since he had stopped talking. After one particular event, which had taken place about 35 years ago, shattering his whole life. Back then he still wrote his diary sometimes. Beneath the black, obscure surface of his mask, his eyes turned watery and his gaze turned into a dull stare. Like it always did when he remembered things he actually shouldn't think about.

When the Third Reich still existed and he worked for the SS, he had many admirers. Some of them secret, others so obvious, you could smell it 20 miles against the wind. If he visited one of the many parties for the Reich's high society, even though he mostly stayed away from those decadent meetings which literally overspilled with vanity, he was surrounded by a group of NSDAP members and other "fans" of his immediately. Most of the time he tried to get rid of them; close physical contact had never been one of his things. He much preferred to watch the ongoings from a certain distance. Women in beautiful dresses, vividly chatting with each other and ever so often looking at him, just to blush heavily when realizing he was glancing back into their direction - it made him smile viciously. "Actually..." he thought, "Actually I could have each one of them by a fingersnap. If I wanted to, they would be mine..." But he wasn't really interested. They would leave him anyway. No woman had been able to put up with him for more than a few years. Two broken marriages validated this thought to him. After a short while, they all said things like "Your eyes freak me out..." or "You're draining my whole energy. You're no good for me.". He had accepted it, avoided eye-contact with other people if he wished to have them around, otherwise stared them down with his unnaturally large, blue eyes. Most of the time, this worked out pretty fine. One of those evenings, he had been introduced to a young woman who had exceptionally awakened his interest. She was twenty-two years younger than him, maybe fifteen centimetres smaller and amazingly beautiful. Shoulderlong, blonde hair, eyes as dark and blue as the ocean and a cocky, yet highly seductive look on her face. For the first time, Doctor Kroenen just stood there and stared, as her father started a conversation which seemed to be rather important, but Karl didn't hear any of it. He just filtered out the name of this beauty who never broke their eye-contact and smiled at him with those red, tempting lips: Ilsa von Haupstein. The two of them remained like that until a sharp, unnerving voice broke the enticing, almost arousing silence between them. "Are you allright, Doctor Kroenen? You look a bit white." Shaking his head in slight confusion, he pushed the young SS officer out of his sphere of privacy. As soon as he could feel other persons' breath, it was too close. "I... I'm fine, just a little... not myself today." He shook his head once more, blinking a few times. Professor von Haupstein, Ilsa's father, winked at him. "Looks like my daughter just messed up your head a little. Don't feel bad for it, she knows very well about her effects on men." Ilsa chuckled and smiled at Karl once more. He had been absolutely stunned by her, now appearing pretty much speechless. "I... I'm sorry... To be honest, it's been a while since someone actually drew my full attention on them... I apologize if I somehow appeared uninterested into what you were telling, Professor..." But the elderly man just smiled and shook his head. "I think I need some fresh air... I'll be right back. Excuse me." And with that, Kroenen left the building, vanishing into a dark alley nearby and started to collect his thoughts. Short time later, he heard footsteps approaching. "Herr Doktor? Are you allright? You looked like you were about to faint." Ilsa had followed him and now sat down next to the shivering man. "No... no... I was just a little... " He stammered a few words, trying to think of some good excuse, but then he sighed loudly. "What am I talking... You just hit me like a truck... I couldn't help but stare at you, I'm so sorry..." But instead of scolding him a debauchee, she rose one hand to stroke his cold-sweated forehead. "Your eyes are amazing, Doktor Kroenen. I have never before seen such intense, beautiful eyes like yours." He glanced at her. "I... thank you... actually people seem to avoid my eyes, saying they're unnatural and scary..." He chuckled slightly and smiled at Ilsa. "Oh and, just call me Karl. And know that you're one of very very few people I offer this..." He grinned shyly, receiving a warming smile from her. "Thank you. So you may just as well call me Ilsa." She bent over and placed a little kiss on his cheek, causing him to blush heavily. "Will you come back inside? I'd love to share some more time with you, Karl." He nodded. "Just give me five minutes. I need to calm down a little." She strutted away, but not without making some younger men watch her and drop their jaws. In fact, "calm down" hadn't been quite the truth. Kroenen took an exaggeratedly deep breath, trying to will away the erection that had built up while she had talked to him so privately and then even kissing his cheek. He shook his head, thinking to himself. "Karl, what the hell? You've been married twice! It's not like you never talked to a woman before, even if they weren't so unbelieveably beautiful..." His thoughts switched back to the picture of her eyes and her seducing lips. For a moment he even imagined her sitting on his lap and... "Goddammit... I need to stop thinking about stuff like that..." He got up and started to walk in small circles. Completely sunken in his thoughts, the otherwise very perceptive and aware Kroenen didn't even notice the brawny men who slowly walked towards him from the darkness of this small street.  
>Suddenly, two pairs of arms grab him and crush his skinny body against the nearest wall. "If it isn't Karl Kroenen. The Führer's cute little lapdog. What are you doing here? Outside, in the dark, far away from Daddy's protective watchdogs?" Karl's eyes flinch and he struggles to get his arms free again. "I'm no lapdog. For noone. Who are you and what do you want? I have nothing you could be interested in." One of his tormentors, a massive man with a short neck, bald and not looking very intelligent, laughs cruelly. "Oh, it's not about materialistic stuff. You know... There are certain people, who would like to see you dead. Others though would like to see you in your own purgatory without having to get you killed. Thus, you do actually have something our clients would like to steal from you." Karl growled and bit down on his teeth. The three men holding him down cackle viciously. "How about... your dignity?" With that, they turn him around and smash his head against the wall. Kroenen's sight turns blurry for a short time and he feels very dizzy, close to falling unconscious. A few moments later he regains consciousness, realizing he is lying on the floor. His eyes widen with pure fear and the painful perception: one of the men is raping him. Horrible childhood memories flash back into his mind and he closes his eyes as hard as possible, praying for this to be a nightmare. But the loud moaning of his torturer and the laughing of his fellows take this last hope away. "Please stop it..." he whispers, his voice a raspy, crackling gasp. Tears run down his face freely. Minutes pass by, but they feel like days to Karl. An ice cold, sweaty hand suddenly lifts his waist up and touches his private parts, making him convulse painfully. "Keep your hands off me, you bastard!" but as soon as he starts to yell, another hand holds his mouth shut. "Aaw come on... I bet you're enjoying it just as much as I do. Just admit it, I won't condemn you... God... you're so pleasantly tight..." Muffled screams vanish unheard in the darkness of this chilling night. After what seemed like eternity, he pulled out, but not without letting Karl feel as much as possible. Silent tears evaded his eyes, his head sinking down on the cobblestone pavement. He was hoping so desperately for it to be over so he could go home and get under the shower. His whole body felt so used, so filthy. Then he heard another voice behind him. "My turn." A shrieking, agonized "No!" dies unheard. Kroenen closes his eyes again, crying heavily. He feels pain welling up in his pelvis as the other man enters him with brute force, humiliating him even further, touching his private parts roughly and moaning into his ear. Karl buries his face in his hands and holds still, simply enduring what is done to him.<p>

Almost an hour passes by. From somewhere footsteps appear, followed by a sharp yell. "Hey! What are you doing there? Get going or I'll call the police!" Immediately the three of them get up, letting go off Kroenen, who hastily pulls up his trousers and tries to get up before his saviour could guess what he had went through. He glances up. It is Ilsa; his face freezes. "Are you allright, Karl? Did they hurt you?" Shaking heavily, trying to hold back his tears the best he can, he replies. "I-.. I'm fine, they were trying... uhm, they were sent by another SS officer who dislikes me... Ne-... Nevermind... Thank you..." She slightly cocks her head. "You don't look allright... Are you sure you don't need a physician or something?" His eyes widen a little, in a fearful, slightly higher pitched voice he responds. "Nonononono! No physician, they... they didn't hurt me or... anything..." Those words made his heart clench. "If you would excuse me now... I'd like to go home... I'm tired... Please forgive me I didn't join you and your father again..." She gives him a worried, sad look. "Too bad... Will we meet again?" He shrugs. "Certainly. After all this wasn't the last party, huh?" He tries to smile, but he can't. Ilsa steps forward, giving him a hug. "Get home safe. Don't get caught by bullies again, will you?" He nods and quickly gets on his way home. Even though his appartement lies only a few streets further south, it takes him almost half an hour to get home. Shivering heavily from the cold and repressed sobs, he enters the beautiful, well-spaced flat, immediately hurrying into the bathroom, undressing on the way there. He gets in the shower, turning on the water. It is freezing cold, as the boiler isn't working during the night, but he doesn't care. He takes his liquid soap bottle and starts pouring its contents over his body, rubbing his skin almost violently afterwards. He goes through this procedure over and over, twelve, fourteen times, until his skin itches and burns painfully and is torn open almost everywhere. Not even to mention the pain he feels in his pelvis. He turns his head just to realize he had poured a total of six bottles with soap over himself. His face convulses in emotional pain, his jaw trembling heavily as he starts to cry. He sinks down in the corner of the shower, hugging his knees tightly and letting the tears run down his face. They mix with the blood running from the many wounds where he had torn his own skin open in the violent compulsion to clean himself. And he still felt used, humiliated and so horribly filthy. He presses his face into his arms and sobs loudly. "Impure... Unclean... Filthy..." His thoughts circle around what he just had experienced. How he hadn't even been given a chance to defend himself. How he had been forced to just lay there and allow them to debase him. After almost four hours of violent crying fits and scratching until he bled from several spots where he had literally lacerated his pale skin, he finally calms down a little. He gets up and out of the shower, just to see that the sun was already rising. He sighed deeply and looked up into the mirror over his basin. And for one short moment he could clearly see his sould dying in the reflection of his watery, blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Sighing, he turned his eyes away from the dreadful image. He left his bathroom and slowly staggered towards the bathroom. Every step, every single movement of his legs hurt like hell and he stopped from time to time, trying to swallow the pain. But it was far too much to simply be forced down. More and more tears evade his eyes until he finally reached his bedroom, dressing into a comfortable, exceptionally soft and warm pajama. Karl crawled into his bed and pulled the sheets over his head, trying to hide his abused, tormented body from the outside world. Crying heavily, he curled up beneath the soft and comforting cloth of his blanket. He stayed like that for about an hour, until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion, drifting into an uneasy sleep.

After quite some time of rolling around in his bed and turning the sheets over and over again , he suddenly felt what seemed like a tremendous weight on his back, pressing him down relentlessly. "Please don't!" He had screamed himself awake from a horrible nightmare. It had seemed so gruesomely real. Karl rolls over on his back, the sensation of lying on his stomach made him feel pressed down. He rubbed his face to regain his senses. "Oh god…" His voice sounded hoarse and dry and speaking ached in his throat. For a short moment he could feel his stomach growl, causing him to look over to the nightstand where he had neatly placed a beautiful clock. One of his own creations. The moment he realized how long he had actually slept made his face turn white as snow. He hadn't been awake for almost two days! Kroenen slowly tried to move his legs, trying to find out if he could get up without being in pain again. "Hm… doesn't feel too bad…" he thought and sat up in bed. With one swift move he turned around and stood up. His legs felt weak and wobbly and walking still caused rather strong waves of pain flashing up his spine and making him grit his teeth in agony. For a short moment he stopped, asking himself why this had happened to him out of all people who were at that party some days ago. But then he felt hunger well up from his abdomen, his stomach growling loudly and water starting to run in his mouth. Ignoring the pain, he quickly went downstairs, prying the refrigerator open and starting to pick the things he wanted to have. He drew out two pans and a pot for cooking potatoes, hurried into his storage room, getting some tin cans and vegetables. Back in his kitchen he pulled out some books with recipes. There were so many good ones he had always wanted to try sometime but never had granted himself the time to do so. One more time he went back into the storage room, getting some chocolate of which he immediately stuffed some into his mouth, quickly washing his hands and afterwards starting to cut vegetables and meat. After half an hour he sat at his table, the evening sun drowning the whole flat in a warm, reddish-orange light. In front of him stood a beautifully served plate with potatoes, carrots, sweet corn and broccoli, partly covered by a light yellow sauce and on top there were at least 350 grams of the finest pork meat. Karl licked his lips hungrily, but still remained his good manners, slowly taking fork and knife, idly starting to eat. This meal tasted better than anything he had ever eaten before. He appreciatively chewed on his dinner, thus almost taking forty minutes to finish it. As soon as he leaned back in his chair though, gently stroking his stomach, he realized that he still felt hungry. So he went back into the kitchen, trying another recipe, this time ending up in front of a plate with delicious fish, rice and an exotic sweet-sour sauce. It went like that a few more times until he finally felt halfway satisfied. Returning to the kitchen once more, he slightly cocked his head, his eyes widening a bit in surprise. He alone had eaten amounts of food, which usually would have been enough to feed a family with four children - grandparents included - and thus had emptied his refrigerator almost completely. But he shrugged it off, people had always told him he was too skinny and underweight and even had encouraged him to eat more. Also, he had greatly enjoyed cooking for himself, trying out new stuff and not to mention how good it had tasted. While he cleaned the dishes, the memories of the hours when the men had raped him, sadly trickled back into his consciousness, changing his almost good mood back to depressive again. It was already quite late; the sun had been gone completely for hours by now. It was a clear, cool night and the sky was full of stars. Karl sighed. The short moment of satisfaction and relaxation was over. The horrible memories were back, not a single detail was missing. He staggered into his living room, which was only lit by the fireplace he had already made a fire in. Grabbing a woolen blanket from one of the drawers, he made his way to the couch, sitting down and wrapping himself up in the sheets. For a short while he just sat there, feeling. Before his inner eye darkness had gathered around him. His inner sanctum, the ultimate core of his soul seemed merely a small, almost dying beacon of light, which already was slowly slipping away into the tremendous rift in his soul. A gape, so wide and deep, he couldn't even make out the slightest glimpse of a bottom. Karl opened his eyes again, letting his fearful eyes wander around. The horrid imagination of his soul literally leaking out of his body through the hole those filthy men had torn into his personal barrier flashed up in his head. For the first time since decades he gazed upwards, silently praying. "Please, God… If you are there, please, save my soul… I know I never really believed in you… but people say you are forgiving and merciful and that you accept every human as a child of yours… Please don't let my soul die away like this… I beg you… I don't know how I should endure this again… It was hard enough to deal with what they did to me when I was a child… Please… Help me…" The last few words came out as audible, deeply desperate whispers. Karl felt broken. As if his heart had shattered inside of him and its pieces had pierced his mind and body from within. He stared down on his bleeding arm and legs and sobbed. "I know… It won't leave me alone… These wounds won't heal up… This pain is just too real… There's just too much the time cannot erase… ". With that he buried his face in the blanket and started to cry heavily, soaking his shirt and the cloth over is arms with his tears. After some time he heard his doorbell ring, shortly before the voice of one of his neighbors came from the door. He sounded worried. "Doktor Kroenen? Are you allright? We haven't seen you for days now, your mailbox is overspilling." Karl didn't react at first, although listening to the door in between his sobs. After a short moment of silence, he heard the voice again. "Please, Herr Doktor. Open the door, I can hear you crying in there…" He got up and slowly walked to the front door, reluctantly opening it a little just to look into a pair of green eyes. "Thank you, Doktor Kroenen. Would you mind letting me in?" Karl hesitated. How could he be sure, this wasn't a trap? They had sent his neighbor's wife as bait and were now waiting for him to open his door. But then he shook his head and carefully opened the door, fearfully watching if she was alone. The younger woman gave him a worried glance. Indeed, he looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and there were bloody, sore parts of skin all over his hands, neck and head. He had ripped out quite some of his hair and his whole face was sunken in from dehydration and lack of energy. "You look horrible, Doktor… Should I get you a physician? Seems like you might be seriously ill…" But the imagination of someone, especially some man touching his skin made his whole body shiver. "No… no… I just need some rest… I've been a little exhausted the past few days…" His hoarse voice was barely audible, all this crying had completely drained his energy and left him tired and exhausted. All he wanted was to lie down in his bed, turn on a little music and sleep. "I… I will get my mail tomorrow. I'll have to buy food anyway… Don't worry, I'll be fine." She glances at him in worry once more. "Fine… But promise to let someone help you if you're in need of some." Karl nodded and guided his visitor out of his flat absentmindedly. Weariness had filled his body and his mind, so he grabbed the woolen blanket from the couch, slowly getting up his stairs and heading for the bedroom. The pain in his pelvic area and his lower back had returned, obviously a reaction to the stress he suffered from. Carefully he crawls underneath the bed sheets and turns off the light. But the darkness that formerly had soothed him so greatly now seemed so fiendish and foreboding to Karl. With shaking hands he switched on the small lamp on his nightstand. "That's better…" He mumbles, closing his eyes and trying to relax a little so he could slowly drift off into sleep.  
>He didn't sleep too well that night. Every time he dozed off a little and sleep tried to take over, Karl was plagued by horrible pictures of his body covered in rancid slick and dirt. Then the images flashed back to the brawny men, raping him over and over. Kroenen snapped out of his sleep each time, covered in ice cold sweat and shivering heavily. Finally, after six hours of not being able to sleep peacefully, he decided to get up. Tired, exhausted he wobbled back into the bathroom, opening his medicine cabinet. He picked out a small box with syringes, all filled with a rather strong sedative. Actually he wasn't even supposed to have those ones, but he had been unable to sleep after his second marriage broke up and so he had stolen them from the hospital where he had worked back then. He stared at the transparent liquid inside of the syringe for a moment and smiled sadly. They promised a long sleep without dreams or nightmares. Not the best kind of sleep but they would fulfill their purpose on his case. Then slowly, trying to calm his shaking hands down, he inserts the point of the needle into the vein of his left arm, hissing sharply at the pain it caused. The syringe had pierced through a spot of skin which was highly sore and irritated by his violent scratching. The clear liquid vanished into his blood completely, and after Karl had pulled out the needle and stopped the bleeding, he sighed deeply and went back to bed, waiting for the anaesthetic to kick in and numb his senses. Even though he was clearly aware that he had probably overdosed the medicine and thereby maybe even killed himself a few moments ago, a deep and persistent satisfaction spread over his mind. Slowly, as he dozed off step by step, pictures came up in front of his inner eye again. But this time they were rather pleasant. He watched himself from a distance, lying on a beautiful field with purple flowers made of paper and cotton. Light blue clouds of warm water travelled across the sky, blocking out his view on the red sun in the sky from time to time. He took a deep breath and watched himself lie down in the greenish white grass; this image of him looked rather happy… He decided to step out of the sky and take a closer look. As soon as he approached his other self, he could clearly see his ruined face: he had no eyelids and his lips were missing as well. Scars covered almost every inch of his face and he was unnaturally skinny, almost like the prisoners of Auschwitz shortly before dying of starvation. Actually the image was rather disturbing… and still, a strange calmness and beauty shone from it. He could hear himself speaking. "Why did you maim your face like that? Actually I considered you quite handsome the way you were." The eyes of his counterpart twitched disturbingly and he licked his bare teeth with a pale tongue. He looked rather surprised and slightly amused. As he spoke up, his voice sounded rustling and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken for ages. "How about you open your eyes? Mirrors do show you the truth, Karl."<br>He screamed himself awake painfully again and sat up straight in his bed, instantly starting to touch his face with trembling hands. Everything felt normal, there were eyelids and also a pair of pale, dry lips. A short glance at the small clock next to his bed made him groan. 10 o'clock in the morning. He had only slept for about six hours. And it matched up with what he was sensing. He felt tired, even more exhausted than before he had slept. But somehow he felt as if his body had changed. Usually he had a very clear awareness of the state his body was in. But today he felt different. Weakened, insanely thirsty and still drained of all energy and life force. As he stood up, his legs struggled a little. Immediately he felt tired again, as if his body was trying to keep him in bed. He clumsily staggered down the stairs and looked at the front door. A bunch of envelopes and other papers had been shoved through under it. Taking a closer look at them, he smiled sarcastically. Those people really were thinking he was stupid enough to answer them faster if they predated their writings. But when he finally opened his door and saw two newspapers lying on the small carpet, his face froze. These were newspapers for days which were six days after the last day he had been awake. "What the… Are you kidding me?" He grabbed the papers, slamming his doors shut and stared down on the white pages in shock. How could this be? He had slept for six whole days! He swallowed heavily and started to worry about his health for a moment. Then he realized he hadn't washed himself for almost ten days now, shivering from sheer disgust. He went back upstairs and marched straight into his bathroom. Searching through his drawers he even found some more soap. He undressed quickly and stepped into the shower cabin, turning on warm water and starting to wash himself. He spent almost one and a half hour in the shower, but at least this time he handled his body with care, cleaning it carefully and even stroking it gently from time to time, trying to give it some comfort. Other than ten days ago, his body was in desperate need of some soft caresses and longed to be treated well a little. And after quite some time Karl started to feel this need being satisfied and turned off the water, wrapping up in a towel and going back down. Since he lived alone, he didn't care if he was still naked under the towel. Instead, he sat down on the couch, enjoying the feeling of small water droplets falling from his wet hair from time to time. Without even noticing, he hugged himself a little, gently rocking back and forth. It felt calming. In fact, it calmed him down so far he fell asleep again, this time not awakened by any nightmares. The next week passed by without him waking up. The few hours he was awake were used for cleaning his body and drinking some water. He didn't even feel hunger anymore. His stomach growled from time to time. But after a while the pain caused by this faded and he lost his appetite and his need for food completely. The only things he felt he needed were sleep, water and a clean body. He happily welcomed sleep as a possibility to avoid thinking of how he had been treated a few weeks ago. The periods between his sleeping phases grew shorter by the day and his health started to deteriorate rapidly. After almost 8 weeks he didn't even recognize his own reflection anymore. His feet would hurt horribly when standing or walking, as his body already had used up the fat in his heels. The same happened to his chin and his eye sockets. But even though he knew very well about these things, he just couldn't stay awake. He had tried to eat a few times; either he hadn't been able to swallow it, or he had thrown up only moments later. So after a while he had decided to give up on that.

A few more weeks passed by, his body changed into something, you wouldn't even consider a living human being. A skeleton inside of a tight suit of white skin. His eyes and his mouth became more and more dried out, as he lost the ability to get up. His muscles completely deteriorated and soon he didn't even open his eyes anymore. From time to time, he suffered from severe convulsions and coughing fits. They often stressed his remaining strength to the ultimate limit, leaving him completely exhausted, causing him to sleep even more. Sometimes his phone or the doorbell rang, but he didn't even really notice. Once he had heard a male voice with a thick Russian accent next to his head, whispering soothing words: "My child, you suffered bravely. I never saw any man endure pain and misery better than you. Just hold on. You will be rewarded. I promise. You will see paradise awaken by my side." But he considered that a hallucination caused by his malnutrition and dehydration.

Finally the one day came. He had woken up rather early, at least he felt like the early morning sun was shining on his face. He was restless, tensing his facial muscles and groaning softly from time to time. He felt the need to talk, to have someone to listen to, or at least someone who would hold his hand. The knowledge that he was all alone in his flat made him sad for the first time. The poor remains of his soul cried out for a last time. "Please… someone… I never asked for anything… but now: I need some comfort… come hold me… please…"  
>Words he had thought many weeks ago resounded in his head. "This pain is just too real, there's just too much the time cannot erase…" Tears ran down his skinny cheeks. He now fully realized what he had done to himself; he was minutes from starving to death. Lonesome. Without anyone noticing how he convulsed violently from the horrible, severe pain his slowly malfunctioning organs caused. But then the voice with the Russian accent reappeared. "Don't be sad. This is only a little death for you. You will rise. And shine in the light of paradise. Do not fear, Karl Ruprecht Kroenen. You will be with me. Soon." The sensation of a strong hand taking hold of his shaking, weak one sent a warm shiver through his body for a moment. He writhed in pain for about an hour, until his internal organs died. He could clearly feel how it started with his intestines and wandered up, until the one moment before his heart stopped beating. The last second in his life made him flinch with the last bit of strength, opening his eyes and staring at the sun for one last time. The sound of a deep breath filled the room for a moment. Karl's lungs now emptied completely, malnutrition and neglect now put this miserable soul to rest. The athmosphere changed from sad and opressed to a calm, relieved state of satisfaction. At peace. Finally.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Suddenly his memories are interrupted by a soft knocking. He gets up and stretches his arms, slowly walking towards the door and opening. "Good evening, Kroenen." It is Ilsa. He opens the door completely and gestures her to come inside. "Thanks. Say... I'm going to buy groceries and I will cook dinner. Do you want to eat something, too?" Karl thinks for a moment, rolling his eyes up beneath the gas mask. Then he nods. "Good. Would you mind writing down what you'd like to eat? I even brought you paper." She smiles and hands a small piece of paper to her silent companion. Karl nods again, scrutinizing her up and down behind the black, empty lenses and licking his bare teeth. Somehow she seems to grow more beautiful year by year. He turns to the left and bends down over a small table, grabbing a pen and starting to write. "How about lasagna?" She smiles brightly, trying to see his eyes for a moment. "Of course. Anything else I can get you?" He bends back down and writes again. "Since when are you so nice? Before, you never even asked if I was hungry." She reads his graceful writing. "Well, you know... I thought about how I treated you the past years... and I came to the conclusion..." At this point she blushes heavily, staring down to her feet and lowering her voice, not thinking about Kroenen's excellent hearing. "I didn't treat you the way you deserved to... You never did me wrong... But I think I was a little disrespectful towards you..." Karl quickly writes another line on the paper. "No reason to feel guilty. Nevermind." Her face looks a little sad, her eyes are watery and her lower lip is trembling. His elegant writing forms more words. "You could get me grapes and some chocolate, if it isn't too much to ask for. Oh, and I'd love to have something to read. I'm horribly bored these days. Do you need money?" Ilsa sighs and smiles at him once more. "No, I think I have enough money. Magazine or book?" He raises two of his slim, graceful fingers. "Book, alright. Which genre?" He takes the paper one more time. "Choose something you like. Everything but this romantic women-stuff with lots of heartache." She giggles. He even had drawn a little smiley underneath the last words. "Fine. I'll call you for dinner when I'm done, okay?" He nods, lowering his head a little. A gesture he used to express gratefulness and respect. With that she leaves his room, hurrying down the hallway. Karl takes a deep breath and looks out of the window. It was dry outside, but heavy, dark clouds covered the sky. Perhaps there would be some rain tonight. He almost hoped for it, as the rain always offered him a possibility to leave the castle without having Ilsa follow him. He sat down again, hanging his head low a bit. If only she knew what really bothers him. But he is too proud to admit that his heart is broken and that he is in need of some comfort. He also doesn't want her to be sad. Noone knows about the big heart he carries inside his chest. Noone actually knows about any of his feelings. He intentionally made Ilsa think he didn't have longings or emotions like sadness, loneliness, sorrow. And he never complained. He just watched her from a distance, wishing for her to be happy, but at the same time convinced that she would never be able to find happiness with him. Even though he would give everything to be with her. Taking off his mask, he rubs his devastated face and throat. The scars and wounds itched a little and his shoulders hurt from tension. He sighed; hopefully Ilsa would be going out soon so he could take a bath without being disturbed. His body needed to be taken care of desperately. "I'm sorry I put you through so much stress... I'll attend to you. Soon." he thinks to his own body. Over the years he had tried to make up for letting his own body starve to death. From time to time he granted himself a little break, enjoying a long shower or eating something exceptionally delicious. Even though he didn't need to eat or sleep, since he wouldn't die a second time, he felt the need to apologize for how he had mistreated himself. Aside from the palms of his hands, which he considered to be filthy and unclean, he loved his body. Adrenaline injections to endure long term stress and straining workout in order to keep in shape for the Master often caused injuries and severe exhaustion. After what had happened to him on the day he had met Ilsa he also considered everything between the lower edge of his ribcage and his knees his private parts; front and backside. These parts of his skin were the ones where his obsession with surgery and perfection had caused the least damage and almost no scars; the surface of his body felt gorgeously soft there and was very sensitive. Even when he and Ilsa had sexual intercourse - a mutual consent between the two of them, the nights often were cold and very lonely - she had never been allowed to set her hand to his private areas. Already the imagination of being touched there by foreign, impure hands made him shiver in disgust. At first he had feared Ilsa wouldn't let herself in for this - having the closest physical contact they could have without using her hands. But to his surprise she had liked it decidedly good. He silently groaned when he remembered how she had moaned with pleasure under him, almost screaming his name everytime he touched the right spots. His pelvic muscles shivered a little with the arousal those memories gave him. And how impressed she had been by his stamina... even though he had never touched himself over all those years. Handpalms... He sighed again. Oh, how he wished to be her beloved... His heart clenched hardly and tears welled up in his blue eyes. He had spent over 60 years at her side, protecting her and taking care of everything she needed. But he always had felt so unworthy; without body warmth he couldn't even warm her when she was cold, not even to think about kissing her. And he feared that his touch felt cold and dead to her. Just like the steady, lifeless ticking of his heart. But he remained silent, watching how he slowly lost his touch on her. Watching it all fade away.

From a distance he heard the huge door of the castle shut. She was home again. A sudden streak of curiousity took hold of Kroenen, so he got up and left his room, quickly going downstairs and joining her in the kitchen. He shyly opened the big wooden door and peeked inside. "Oh, hey Kroenen!" She smiled brightly, even though her hair was wet from the heavy rain that had started outside shortly after she had left the store. Karl took a towel from the nearby heating and carefully placed it around her shoulders. It sent a warm shiver down her body and she leant against his chest for a moment, breathing deeply and closing her eyes. His whole body trembled with overwhelming feelings, just as always, when she touched him a gentle way. He closed his arms around her before he had even thought about it, slowly letting his head sink on her shoulder. Warm air evaded the filter of his mask, making the tiny hair on Ilsa's neck stand up. She sighed comfortingly, pressing her cheek against the warm metal. Kroenen's gloved hands had started to massage her shoulders. He pulled her back a little and sat down on a small chair, making her sit on his lap. He almost felt innocent at that moment. His feelings weren't driven by sexual arousal and neither were Ilsa's. They just sat there and he had the opportunity to comfort her, which he did quite well, as she rapidly drifted into a warm sense of wellbeing underneath his skilled, gracious fingers. She opened her mouth, whispering softly into where she thought his ear might be. "You're really good at this... Thank you, Karl... I haven't felt so good in months..." Beneath the mask, Kroenen was awakened by her voice from a absentminded state of just concentrating on stroking her as softly as possible. His whole mouth was full of water and saliva had already started to run down his chin as he hadn't even thought about swallowing from time to time. Without his lips, there was nothing that would keep the fluid inside his mouth. He backed his head away a little and reached behind his shoulders, taking the mask off swiftly and silently. Then he wiped his wet chin and throat with the sleeve of his shirt, making her giggle slightly. "Forgot to swallow? Or aroused by me?" He shook his head and tensed his muscles as if to smile. It didn't quite look like one but Ilsa knew. She had lived together with Karl for so long, she now knew exactly how his face changed when he tried to express certain emotions. She looked at his devastated face for a moment. Over the years she had gotten used to it and even found a certain beauty in it. "May I touch you?" Kroenen nodded. Ilsa raised her hands and gently put them on his scarred skin, stroking and caressing the tensed muscled and the badly healed sutures. He rolled his eyes upwards - his form of closing them - and moaned barely audible, greatly enjoying the feeling. "Does that feel good? It's been quite a while since you allowed me to touch you." A soft "Ngh-hng... Thank you..." rattled from his throat and made her shiver. It had been years since he last had spoken, his deep, soothing voice, even if it was hoarse and very low, made her smile. Suddenly she recognized the human behind this broken facade again. She could see the pain he endured everyday in his eyes and felt a little sorry for him. How good it seemed to do him that somebody finally touched him and took the time to ease his pain almost brought tears to her eyes. Such a small gesture, and still it enabled him to unwind for a moment. Kroenen's facial muscles visibly relaxed and made him look 20 years younger. Also, he stopped gritting his teeth and opened his mouth a little bit. His light rose tongue showed through the dental arches. Ilsa slowly moved forwards, his head still in her hands, and kissed Karl's teeth, letting her tongue slide into his mouth and playing a little with his. A suprised gasp escaped his throat and he reluctantly joined the little game she had started. But after a long moment he tilted his head back. "Don't... you'll make yourself unhappy..." he whispered, deeply gazing into her eyes. "What?" Kroenen lifted her off his lap and got up. "You shouldn't do that..." his voice sounded hoarse as always, but for a moment she thought she had heard distinct sadness in it. She looked at him. Over the decades he had grown pretty strong, and even though he still was mostly skin and bones, decent muscles were outlined against his slender silhouette. "I never recognized how handsome you were, Kroenen..." she mumbled and immediately blushed, trying to hide her eyes unterneath her blonde thatch. Karl lowered his eyes as well. He instinctively knew that it actually hadn't been meant for his ears. A barely audible "Thank you..." was all he managed to say. "I'll get our dinner ready then... Do you want to call me when I'm done cooking?" He silently nodded and backed away, before turning around and almost running back to his rooms as soon as she was out of sight. His thoughts started running wild. "Oh god... How am I supposed to not feel anything for her when she says stuff like that? I should've never gone downstairs to her..." But then her words swayed through his mind again and again. "Handsome... me? I wonder if she meant it..." Swiftly he vanished back into his quarter, sitting down in a comfortable chair, taking a deep breath and trying to sort his thoughts. Absentmindedly he put his hands over the lenses of the black mask he had put back on while hurrying upstairs. He drifted back into his memories...

Suddenly Kroenen jumped awake. He immediately felt horrible. His whole body seemed to be dried out and his head was aching terribly. But the rest of the pain was merely a nagging pressure that pulsed through him. He could clearly hear his clock ticking so he briefly looked to his nightstand. Almost midnight. Slowly he got up, flexing his arms and legs a little. A glimpse into the mirror made him freeze. He looked even worse than a prisoner from Auschwitz. His whole body, only dressed with - strangely enough - dustcovered shorts and a shirt, also covered in a grey veil of dust. Both of them looked fairly oversized were about to slide from his scraggy waist and shoulders. Without a word he got rid of the tagrag around his chest and stared at his reflected image. Skin and bones weren't even enough to describe it. For a few minutes he just stood there, until dread turned into fascination. A strange, otherworldly beauty radiated from this sight. For a second he thought the ticking of the clock seemed strangely loud, considering how far away from it he was standing. But the moment he closed his clotty eyes he realized something. It felt as if the strange voice with the thick Russian accent suddenly grew a face inside his memories. He didn't know why, but he remembered it as the voice that belonged to Grigori Jefimowitsch Rasputin, the supposedly dead magician that had served the Russian Royal Family until his death in 1916. And from somewhere Kroenen knew that he know was destined to serve exactly this man. Taking a closer look at himself he now also noticed the golden dial on the left side of his chest. And it didn't even bother him. He clearly knew that the Master had replaced his dead human heart with the clockwork heart Karl himself had designed and built years ago. Shyly, with a hoarse voice he asked: "Master Rasputin? Do you hear me?" An unearthly breeze wafted through the room and the familiar, deep voice appeared behind Karl's ears, making him turn around. "Aah... Doktor Kroenen. Good to see you finally arose from your slumber. How do you feel?" Kroenen's whole body shook with deep respect and enthusiasm. "I... uh... good! Thank you. Thank you. I am deeply grateful for this present you gave to me..." his voice rattled. He bowed down and lowered his head, not even daring to catch the Master's gaze. Rasputin smiled, completely satisfied with his new servant. "My pleasure, Doktor Kroenen. Know, that you now are more than any man can become during his lifetime. You are now blessed with invulnerability to physical damage. You will be able to lose great amounts of blood without fainting or dying. Also, you will notice, that winding up your clockwork heart will provide you with enhanced strength, speed and reflexes - a little gift from our gods, whose magic enabled the fusion of your body with your new heart. But be aware; once the clockwork is completely destroyed or your head is separated from your body, you will suffer another death." His soothing voice lowered. "But don't be afraid. For my loyal servants, no death is final..." He finished his words with a warm, almost friendly chuckle towards Kroenen. "Use your gifts wisely. Downstairs you will find a stack of books. Read them. You will understand. Then start your preparations for Projekt Ragna Rok. We will create a new Garden of Eden." Karl nodded, still shivering all over, and responded "I will do as you wish. Thank you. For everything." Rasputin smiled again and gently patted Kroenen on the shoulder. Then he vanished into thin air. Kroenen shook his head for a moment and tried to calm down his thoughts. Still unable to truly believe what just had happened, he went into the bathroom. "Undead men shoul be clean as well, I guess..." He mumbled, a little amused.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Before he even had closed the door though, he facepalmed and chuckled. "Even after some time of being dead, there won't be hot water at midnight..." So he put on a fresh pajama and ventured into the basement, opening the valve for hot water. Raising his eyebrow, he glanced at all the cobwebs and spiders on the ceiling. But then he shrugged it off and went back into his flat and to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet of his bathtub, letting in nice warm water. Rummaging around in his cupboards, he finally found what he was looking for; a bottle of bubble bath, smelling of herbs and lemon. He undressed completely and got into the tub, slowly allowing his body to glide into the warm clouds of foam. His muscles unwound and sent a relaxing, warm shiver down his spine. The sudden increase in body temperature made his whole body throb slightly. Clear awareness of what every single inch of skin and muscle was doing, overcame his mind. Just like before the incident with the men a few months ago. He sighed, satisfied. Kroenen closed his eyes slowly, and despite his actual aversion to his handpalms, he started to run his hands over his chest. Goosebumps formed where his fingers had travelled, but not unpleasant ones. A relaxed, almost happy smile formed on his mouth. He could feel his blood flow through every vein. His skinny, graceful hands carefully ran over his stomach and waist, sometimes pressing down a little, trying to loosen his tensed muscles. Finally he tried to go one step further. The feeling of touching himself had been comfortable, unlike some months ago, he didn't feel filthy or scared.  
>Karl reluctantly, carefully allowed two fingertips to stroke his beautiful, smooth manhood. It reacted instantly, blood literally flushing into the corpus cavernosum. A soft moan escaped Kroenen's mouth, the muscles around his eyes tensed up. A deep, shaking breath rattled through his throat. Slowly, he ran his fingers up and down his quickly hardening shaft. He backed his hand away a little, trying to prevent himself from reaching his point of no return too soon. No... He wanted to give himself time. To enjoy this with body and mind. Opening his eyes a little, he gazed down on his erection. It looked... beautiful. In fact, far more beautiful than he had remembered it. Perhaps it was because of the perspective... after all he had until then mostly seen it only on his reflection in the mirror... He smiled again and sighed happily, then turned his attention back to his penis. He brought one hand down to it again, gently caressing it up and down. The blood vessels started to line out against the surface a little as his arousal grew. Within minutes, he reached a point where two or three gentle strokes could have made him orgasm. "I shouldn't have lived celibately for so long..." he thought. But he shrugged it off, for the first time in decades having fun with his own body. He had started a game against himself. Everytime he felt he was going over the edge, he retreated his hand, watching his member twitch, releasing small amounts of preejaculate every time. The contractions grew stronger as time passed. He spent almost an hour like that, teasing himself and enjoying it greatly. From time to time, his arousal grew so unbearably strong, it made him moan loudly. For a short moment he pondered: "Sex with women never made me do that...". But he shook his head and continued. Short time later, the fingertips of his right hand travelled from his testicles up to the tip of his organ, following one of the now clearly tangible veins on the lower side of the shaft. Kroenen's breathing sped up, he was trying to compensate the physical stimulus by going through complicated blueprints and operations in his head, but - silly as it sounds - this time the only thing he was capable of thinking were two words: Let. Go. Almost unwillingly, his hand closed around his erection, squeezing it so unbelievably soft and tender, then moving just a little, pausing shortly afterwards. It kept him on the egde for almost a minute, until he finally moaned with pleasure, letting his climax take over for a moment. He could feel his manhood pulsate and contract in his hand, spilling warm, slightly viscous semen. The pleasure felt so intense, it almost hurt, when he started to rub up and down a little. His fast, deep breathing was interrupted by aroused moans again, as his ejaculation reluctantly wound down; perhaps his body was worried there wouldn't be an opportunity to do this again in the future. Slowly though, after what felt like minutes, the climax faded. Kroenen let go off his still throbbing member and sighed heavily, groaning very softly.<br>The ticking of his clockwork heart had paced up distinctly, but now it slowly calmed down, just as his erection grew soft again. Letting himself sink back into the water, he felt deeply satisfied. Leaning back, his eyes still closed and a happy smile on his lips, he decided to let some more time pass, just relaxing here in the warm, aromatic water. Resting there, between ambrosian clouds of warm vapor, he found the time to listen into his soul. It still felt hurt and it still was struggling with the memories of the evening when he had met Ilsa, but there was something else... Almost like peace. It was, as if the memories were still there, but the pain they caused had been taken away. In addition to that, there was knowledge. Knowledge he knew for sure he hadn't gathered himself. Kroenen wasn't even sure if this was his own memory. But he seemed to be able to access it freely, pick out information and categorize it as his own memories. He mused about it for some more time, slowly drifting into a hypnotic trance. The ticking from his heart grew louder. It even drowned his thoughts after a while, making him calm. A deep, persistent tranquility took hold of Karl's senses.  
>Tick. Tock... Tick... Tock...<br>It became slower. After a while, Kroenen fell into a strange kind of daydream. He knew he wasn't sleeping. But he wasn't awake either. The soft voice of the Master echoed through his head. "Welcome, my child. Welcome to the void inside your soul. Don't be frightened, there's no need to be. Take a look around." His blue eyes wandered through the darkness for a moment. It seemed empty, until vague silhouettes started to appear. A hysterical, insane laugh shattered through the blackness - it sounded like his own, aside from the little higher pitched tone. For a moment, he wondered if this was real, but Rasputin's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I don't blame you, if you don't understand all of this now, this is more than most mortal men ever get to see. But know, that this is your sanctuary. This is a place, where you will be able to find rest. No matter what threats or injuries beset you outside, here you will be safe and healthy. Well, what passes as 'healthy' for you now. This is the place where the magic that keeps your body going is generated. You may not have noticed, this is where you banished many of your emotions and memories. Just look to your right." Kroenen did as the Master had told. A short distance away, a little boy was kneeling. He appeared to be poking something with a stick. Karl approached the boy, peeking over his little shoulder. At closer range, he could see the dark bruises on his back and recognized himself. At the age of eight years. He was poking a dead squirrel with a tiny stick. The lad's head turned from side to side, chuckling almost viciously. "You should have let me..." he stated. Kroenen blinked, slightly startled. "Let you what?" His younger self turned around and stared at him with black, empty eyesockets. "Kill them. You always wanted to, why didn't you let me?" Suddenly, Kroenen could see long, rustly nails evading from the child's body. "Mum and Dad deserved to die! You should have taken Dad's paper knife and slit their ugly paunches open! Just like you let me trip that filthy little bugger who always stole our sweets down the stairs. You enjoyed it, didn't you? That's why you love to kill up to this very day." Karl stumbled back, his eyes wide with horror. "I never thought like that, that's not true!" But his younger self grinned nastily. "Yes you did. You did everytime Father and Uncle touched you, touched us. You do remember, how they forced our mouth open and..." "Stop it!" Kroenen put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes. "I won't hear it... I won't... remember it... again..." "Open your eyes, Kroenen." The Master intervened. "I think you had enough. This should not be a place where you feel uncomfortable. Now rise. Wake up and get to work. If you need anything, call me. I'll be right there."  
>With that, Kroenen snapped out of his sleep and sat up. His head had been under water and some of the liquid had found its way into his nose, making him cough loudly. Taking some deep breaths, he shook his head and tried to regain his senses. It took only short time, and to his honest surprise, he didn't feel disturbed by what he just had witnessed. He pulled out a bottle of shampoo from a nearby shelf. He carefully put some of it on his head and washed his hair he felt satisfied with it, he stepped out and dried himself with a fresh towel. A quick glance into the mirror showed that he had lost lots of hair. Only some thin, scattered swatches of light blonde hair had remained. He sighed, slightly sad and put on his black bath robe. They had given it to him on his first anniversary of being the head of the Thule Society. On its back there was a beautiful piece of embroidery, showing the new heraldic sign of the society: a red dragon with spread wings, embracing a white disk which surrounded the black swastika. Hitler had appointed it the new flag for the German Reich, so Kroenen considered it quite suitable. Dressed like that, he hugged himself for a moment, rubbing his arms and shoulders and smiling weakly, still a little sad about his soft, gorgeous hair being almost completely gone. But then he shrugged and left the bathroom, quickly going downstairs and looking through all the books the Master had left for him. They all were pretty ancient, according to the only language in them he recognized - Middle High German - they were at least 400 years old. If not older. Most of the books though were written in languages he didn't know. Some of them didn't even look like real languages and others didn't have any writing, but only drawings in them. A curious glitter flared in Kroenen's blue eyes. He smiled. All of this was so... fascinating, so interesting. He sat down at the table and built a small fortress of books around a free space where he could take notes and put down the book he currently was reading.<p>

Knocking on his door made him flinch. "Oh dear... some day I'm going to have a heart attack..." He thought, silently laughing about his own joke. Ilsa carefully opened the door and peeked inside. "Dinner is served. Are you still hungry?" Kroenen nodded and stood up, shyly following the blonde woman downstairs, where the thick, delicious smell of italian food already filled the air. The tall, slender assassin unbuckled his mask and took it off, the exposed remains of his face twitched a little with the warm air that suddenly hit them. A satisfied murmur came from his mouth, causing Ilsa to look at him. His eyes were fixated on the floor and his skin was paler than usual. "Are you allright? You look a bit odd there..." She softly asked. His glance switched to her eyes for a moment and he shook his head "It's nothing... only a little tired..." His voice was shaky and sounded sad. So she gathered all her courage and took his left arm into her hands. "I didn't mean to startle you earlier... I'm sorry if I sounded stupid or made you feel awkward..." "Don't apologize..." he whispered. "I'm not used to those things anymore, that's all..."  
>When the two of them arrived in their dining room, they sat down at the corner of the table, close to each other. The otherwise silent, anything but talkative Kroenen even answered her when she started a conversation about the last journey they had made. It had been to Singapore, where they had been ordered to steal an ancient relic which would be essential for the resurrection of their Master. They both laughed heartily. "And the guy at the airport was like 'This is not your passport. Is this a joke?' and the other dude with the metal-detecting...thingy... scanned you and the thing went off like crazy..." Kroenen joined her laughter again. "And the guy with the passports asks 'You're kidding, right? Is this a prank? I'd not be surprised if Dumbledore walked around the next corner...' And you ask him back 'What on earth is a Dumbledore?' You can't even imagine how hard it was not to burst laughing..." She took a sip of wine. "But seriously... How am I supposed to know that? Of course I felt stupid... But why would I ever read a book about a wizard kid from England?" Karl chuckled and stuffed another fork of lasagna in his mouth, trying to concentrate on chewing without opening his teeth too far. Ilsa smirked. "Want to hear a really horrible pun?" He nodded and looked up. "Are you having difficulties 'jew-ing'?" Tears welled up in his eyes when he tried to surpress his laughter, hastily swallowing the steaming hot food. "Oh my god..." he burst laughing. "That's so ridiculous! But not the worst one... When you knocked at my door earlier, I jumped out of my thoughts and the first thing I thought - One day I'll have a heart attack from that..." She wiped tears from her eyes and giggled.<br>Their glances met over their wine glasses and both of them froze for a moment. The yearning for one another became unbearably strong at this point and they slowly drew closer to each other until their noses touched. They hesitated, and Ilsa softly whispered "Kroenen... Why do you think I would not be happy with you?" Sadness filled his eyes and voice. "I'm a monster... I'm a man without a face... You deserve better than me..." "What if I want you, though? I see the beauty in you, even if you don't believe me. Other men are... shallow... most of them even more untruthful than you and me. You have, what I long for. In you, I have found a man who can hold me, when I am too weak to stand for myself." "But I'm cold... I'm dead, Ilsa... " She shook her head and caught his glare again. "No... Dead are the men who lost the ability to feel. You do feel, though. And in your chest beats a shiny heart of gold. And I'm not speaking about the clockwork. I know that it's also made of gold... but... You know what I'm trying to say..." She blushed and lowered her eyes. Kroenen touched her shoulder and gently caressed it. If she had looked at him that moment, she could have seen the tears running down his cheeks. For the first time in almost 60 years though, this were not tears of sadness or pain. Those were tears of joy. Hoarsely, trying to hide the emotions in his voice, he whispered. "Thank you, Ilsa. You just touched the very core of my heart..." They exchanged glances again, smiling a little.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

Ilsa closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and covering his bare teeth with her soft, gentle lips. Their tongues met, ever so silken, carefully caressing each other. Kroenen sighed, almost moaned softly. Even though his worries hadn't been swept away completely, he still enjoyed their kiss. His lidless, large eyes watched the face of his partner relax and brighten slightly. He pulled her closer, making her sit on his lap. She felt warm and he could sense her pulse speed up a little. His skinny, graceful hands slowly ran over her shoulders, gently brushing over her blonde hair and her neck. She pulled her lips away from his mouth, smiling widely and whispering "Your tongue is so gorgeously soft..." Karl swallowed, the taste of her saliva still in his mouth, and tried to smile back. Her eyes glistened and she pushed herself a little forward on his lap, making their bodies press against each other. Her grin widened when she heard him moan with relish. Their gazes locked again and they leaned their foreheads against one another. Adding to Ilsa's wellbeing, his skin felt cool against hers. She sighed deeply and wrapped her arms around his slim shoulders, capturing him in a tight embrace. Kroenen's hands found their way to her waist, swiftly slipping under her shirt and stroking her warm, pale skin.  
>"Do you think the master wants this?" he asked. The Aryan woman thought for a second, then gave him an encouraging glance. "Well... the master knows that we only have each other. If he wouldn't want this to happen, he probably wouldn't recruit one male and one female servant... Especially not if both of them are so god damn attractive... He probably expects this to happen. Besides, why would he care? We're only his servants. As long as we do our jobs, he won't mind." Karl nodded, turned his eyes to the side a little and whispered "I just don't want to disappoint him... I don't want him to think that I only stayed because..." but she interrupted him quickly. "Kroenen... are you serious? You're probably by far the most loyal person on this planet. You're a way better servant to him than I am. The master trusts you and he won't stop doing so only because the two of us developed feelings for one another." Karl chuckled softly at her attempt to calm his thoughts, but turned his attention back to her anyway.<br>He then stood up, carefully letting her follow his motion so she wouldn't just drop to the ground. Taking her hands, he gently guided her to one of the living rooms. His ever-present phonograph stood on a beautiful shelf, made of dark wood. "How does this bloody thing show up everywhere Karl goes?" she wondered, watching him put on a record which looked rather new. Probably though it looked like that because he took care of the little amount of personal things he still had. "What is it?" She asked, making his head turn around, the lidless blue eyes fixated on her. "You'll like it... I'm not as boring as one might think. It's something special. Just listen." He set down the needle. Crackling, just as she expected, soft piano music and gentle violin notes started. After a short intro a female voice started singing.

Now that you have gone away,  
>I feel so cold, why did I stay?<br>Remember, I'll remember your face so pale,  
>when you left me on that gloomy day...<p>

After she had sung the last note, the piano wound down for a moment. Suddenly the quality of sound made a jump of 60 years, each tone now crystal clear, as if it were played by a new sound system. Ilsa opened her mouth a little as violins and a soft drum beat joined in. The female voice continued.

Time goes by, memories are mine.  
>Still waiting for the moment I'll see you again.<br>Times are changing, memories are fading.  
>I'm waiting for another chance,<br>to tell you belong to me...

Tension built up, Kroenen's face changed as if to smile. In his icy blue eyes she could see an expression she had last seen almost 70 years ago. His glance looked exactly like when they had sex for the first time and she accidentally bit her tongue and kissed him afterwards. She shivered with the recollection of this evening, the sexual tension between them grew. His hungry, lustful eyes wandered up and down her body.

One day...  
>I know we'll meet again.<p>

Under the Iron Sky

He quickly approached her, taking off the glove of his right hand on his way, and pulled her into his arms. Bending down to her, he made their mouths connect again, capturing her in a passionate kiss. Ilsa responded immediately, opening her teeth and allowing his tongue to slide in and play with hers. Huffing and puffing the Nazis now stood there, running their hands over each others body. Karl didn't even complain when she softly caressed his back without having asked for permission first. Her soft, dianty fingers wandered down his ribcage, his slim waist and his skinny haunch, leaving a trail of warm, thrilled goosebumps beneath his shirt. The smaller woman in his arms felt her whole body tingle when he gently placed his hands on her hips, pressing her lower body against his own. They both moaned softly, strong arousal building up. She backed her mouth away a little and ardently whispered "May I touch you? I mean, everywhere?" He silently nodded, breathing heavily. For some reason his mind was still struggling to hold back what his body was trying to do. Small, gentle hands now ran over his back, travelling over his behind, around his waist to his frontside and then slowly, almost teasingly between his legs. When her warm, shaking hands finally touched his manhood, every rational barrier inside his head shattered and he moaned loudly, rolling his eyes upwards and barely able to control what his knees were doing. Ilsa smiled broadly. She still liked the idea of having control over the assassin, even though she knew he actually was superior to her, both in intellect and strength. This moment felt to her as if she had his weakness in her hand.

She pushed him back a little, making him sit down on the old, worn couch. "Relax..." she whispered seducingly, kneeling over him and softly squeezing his already stiffening member. A shaking, deep breath escaped her lips. Watching him sit there, aroused as hell... it fascinated her. She could feel her own sex throb and pulse at the sight and feel of his hardening penis. She reluctantly took his right hand, not sure how he would react, and placed it between her legs. Kroenen's eyes flinched to her face, watching her bite down on her lower lip when he carefully applied some pressure on her crotch. The Aryan woman spread her legs a little further, trying to make the contact with his hand more intensive. But he pulled his hand back and looked at her, trying to smile. Without a word, he then made them both stand up, unbuttoned her blouse and undressed her upper body. Her bra went flying, so did her trousers, panties and also all the clothes that Kroenen was wearing, leaving the two of them naked, looking at each other. Karl stared at the ground for a moment, wondering if he should be ashamed of what lean, scarred body he now presented to her. 60 years ago, he remembered, he had been so beautiful... In retrospective, his body had been more perfect back then, than it was now. Except for the mechanical additions he had made.  
>But the sensation of small, warm hands brought him back to reality and he found himself staring into her beautiful, dark blue eyes. "Don't, Karl... don't start to think again... Your thinking always ruins the beautiful moments for you... What you now need is to feel..." She kissed him again, running her fingertips over his skin. She could feel his muscles vibrate when she found sensitive spots. Ilsa hesitated then, massaging his body there a little more, often earning an aroused, lustful moan from him. His hands rested on her hips, his whole body got so overwhelmed with pleasure and the lovely feeling of having her close, he couldn't even control his extremities. "Karl... please, stop thinking for a moment. Just act. Touch me. Enjoy what we're doing here. No worries. No remorse." She whispered, reaching behind her back and placing his right hand on her breast. It shook badly and she noticed Kroenen's entire body trembling, but she still felt him slowly starting to relax.<br>After a short while he found his courage, carefully bringing his gloved, mechanical hand down to her groin, gently caressing it. Thanks to the highly sensitive receptors in the metallic fingertips, he could feel she was moist there. She moaned, when he slid two of the fingers between her labia, carefully touching her clitoris. She pressed her lower body against his hand, trying to get a little more from him, maybe make him slide his fingers completely into her. But to her dismay, he pulled his hand back again, looking at it with fascination in his eyes. He opened his mouth a bit and hoarsely asked "I...? _I _can make you that wet?" She saw him turn the hand in front of his bare eyes, remembered that he had told her about his aversion to handpalms, but shrugged it off immediately. Surprised, she then watched his pale tongue slide out of his mouth, reluctantly probing at the fluid on the glove. She moaned loudly, the sight of Kroenen, the man with the worst case of obsessive compulsive washing she had ever seen, licking and tasting _her _sexual fluids made her so incredibly horny. His eyes wandered to her, reading the question from her eyes. "Just curious..." he whispered and his face tensed as if to smile. "But... Isn't this something you always considered filthy?" The slender assassin shrugged. "Can't I be wrong once?"  
>He got rid of the glove, placing his mechanical hand around her waist. The human one now travelled down her front and in between her legs. She moaned again, whispering his name and gritting her teeth. A short glance down where his hand was, forced another moan from her lips. Her vaginal fluids were literally running over his scarred hand, he obviously had found exactly the right way to stimulate her. Kroenen groaned softly. His swollen, hard manhood pulsed with arousal and pressed against one of her thighs. Ilsa decided to help him get his pleasure as well. When she grabbed it and squeezed it a little, Karl's head flinched upwards and he gasped for air. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't remember you were so sensitive..." She said, but he shook his head and rolled his eyes up, moaning lustfully when she softened her touch on his throbbing member and carefully started to rub him.<br>Two of his slick fingers now slid inside of her, curiously feeling against her inside walls. She started to pant heavily and under her breath she pleadingly glanced into his eyes. "Let's sit down, please... I think my legs will fail me..." He chuckled and took a step back, sitting down on the couch again and making her kneel astride his lap again. When she resumed her actions on his hardened shaft, he started to feel the urgency to orgasm much stronger than before. Deciding that he wanted to see her climax first, he pushed her a little, rolling her over on the sofa. Now lying under him, she couldn't reach his penis and he breathed heavily, trying to focus on something that would distract him from the gushing wet place his fingers now ventured into.  
>He gently ran his fingers up and down her inner walls, searching for this little area of tissue where women are most sensitive. "Being a surgeon is awesome..." he thought for a second. "Now I know why I liked Anatomy the best, back at university..." His lipless grin even widened when she suddenly dug her fingernails into the cloth of the couch. His hand stopped dead in its tracks and he made her look at him. "Oh my god, what did you just do?" "Wait for it." He replied and tried to force down an amused giggle. Then, with just the right amount of force, he started to rub this spot he had found inside of her. She gasped for air between moans and screams of pleasure. Her waist lifted a little and he took the chance to place his mechanical index and middle finger onto her clitoris, massaging it softly. Kroenen had never felt anything like this before. Her whole pelvis spasmed against his fingers and he pushed up her hips a bit further. Her contractions grew stronger with each time his fingers pressed down inside of her and Ilsa groaned. She bit her lip again, trying to hold back a little longer, but when she breathed out, her lower body relaxed for a moment and Kroenen's fingers gave her the last bit of stimulus she needed. Clenching her fists and digging her fingernails into Kroenen's shoulders, her whole body tensed up incredibly strong. Gushes of clear, slightly whiteish fluid ran into the chuckling assassin's hand and she couldn't help but scream his name over and over again. Her orgasmic contractions were strong enough to force Karl's fingers together and he moaned at the sensation of his beautiful lover having such an intensive climax just for him. After a few moments she opened her eyes again and glanced at his face. A slightly morbid mixture of satisfaction and a still hungry, aroused expression reflected in these ice blue orbs.<br>Panting heavily, still completely overwhelmed with pleasure, she whispered "What did you do there?" Kroenen smiled and looked down on his hand which still rested between her wet legs. "I made you ejaculate..." He chuckled. "I didn't expect it to work so well on first try, though... That was really impressive, Ilsa..." She blushed and watched as he bent down to taste the clear liquid again. She shyly raised her voice again. "Did you..." He let his eyes wander back to catch her gaze. "Huh? Oh... no... Why are you asking?" She grinned and put her hands on his shoulders, making him lean back on the couch. "Well, then it's your turn now..." "I'm fine, Ilsa, you don't have to..." But she already had her hands down on him again, softly caressing the thick, pulsating blood vessels on his shaft. "You're bleeding..." she stated, her voice a little sad, but she lowered her head and ran her tongue over the scratches. His blood had a faint, bittersweet taste. It somehow reminded her of how he had been before he disfigured his face and she looked up to his eyes. Saliva was running down his chin, his gaze absolutely fixated on how she was licking his blood. It seemed to even goad on the hunger in his eyes.  
>After a short moment, she sat up again, kissing his cheek and looking down on his penis. Kroenen moaned hoarsely and she carefully put some pressure on it. Preejaculate started to run from its tip and she stopped for a second. He groaned again, the urgency to orgasm almost unbearably strong and softly whispered into her ear. "Please... let me reach it... I can't take it much longer..." Her mouth opened a bit and a broad smile formed on her face. There was actually <em>need <em>in his voice. "So watching me come brought you almost there?" He silently nodded, sweat had formed on his pale forehead. "You're very vocal... I didn't exactly expect that. Your voice makes me..." he cleared his throat and blushed slightly, "Your voice makes me so damn horny..." Ilsa giggled and placed another sweet kiss on his nose.  
>Then she kneeled above his upper legs again, slowly stroking the engorged, pulsating organ in her hands. For a few more times she brought him that close to his climax, teasing him a little. He deserved to have the strongest, most intesive orgasm she could possibly give him. Kroenen sat up a little, his whole body tensed with the need to finally release all this pressure inside his groin. More preejaculate dripped into her hand and he moaned loudly, his teeth clenched so hard they made a strange grating sound. "Come on... don't torture me... I didn't do that to you either..." he begged her. Ilsa smiled again and licked her index finger. Then she softly touched the flushed, throbbing tip of his manhood and rubbed it gently, her eyes fixed on his face. For one last time she stopped her movements and breathed in his ear. "I want to see you come. Don't hold back now." With that, she lowered her gaze onto Kroenen's sex, grabbing it a little tighter than before. Silently she bowed down and let her tongue touch his glans for one short moment, pulling away immediately when she felt him tense up. She watched his face change from fairly aroused to so immensely aroused, it almost looked painful. "Do that again... please..." he hissed between clenched teeth. She did as he wished, this time letting her soft, moist tongue stay on his manhood until he held his breath for a moment. She closed her hand around his member, gently rubbing it up and down. Then she backed her head away and listened to the most lustful, sensual moan she had ever heard from a man. Kroenen's member twitched in her hand as he released, allowing a massive amount of semen to spurt out of his hard, swollen penis and into her hand. His moans grew even louder when he watched her second hand wander between her legs and stroke her genitalia along with his climax. He rolled his eyes upwards for a moment, letting the pleasure numb his thoughts and increase his sensual perception.<br>"Feel... instead of think..." He slowly came to like this imagination. Other than his mind, his body never gave him negative sensations. It only did that when he was hurt or sick. He smiled, sighing deeply. "That was wonderful, Karl..." Ilsa snuggled up to him, caressing his chest with her warm hands. He looked at her and she let him watch, while she raised her hand to her lips and lasciviously licked his ejaculate from it. "Tastes almost like your skin, Kroenen..." she whispered, making him chuckle slightly. They remained like that for a few more minutes. His right arm found it's place around her waist and her head rested comfortably on his shoulder. No words were spoken, only occasional glances into each other's eyes. They knew what the other was thinking -no need to say it aloud.  
>After about fifteen minutes, Kroenen yawned abundandly. He began to feel comfortable, even though he knew she could see his scars and everything he did to his body. Sitting, almost lying there on the couch, naked, having intimate, intensive contact... He liked it. And he hoped that she felt the same way. His wish was granted only a short moment later, when she straightened up and knelt down over his lap again, smiling at him. She took a letter opener from the shelf nearby and made him watch. A tiny cut to her fingertip made her flinch a little. His eyes looked worried at first, but when she licked her lips and gently opened his teeth with two fingers, his feelings changed into arousal again. Ilsa carefully put the bleeding fingertip into his mouth, watching him stare at her seducing eyes and greedily running his tongue over the fresh cut.<br>As soon as the first drop of her blood touched his tongue, the atmosphere in the warm living room became thick. His eyes went a little darker, his gaze full of lust and hungry for more. And she felt the same, letting the free hand wander between her legs, just to realize how wet she already was. "I hope you don't need recovery..." she whispered and he grinned. "Sixty years ago you wouldn't believe me when I told you blood would make it even better. What changed your mind?" The Aryan shrugged and smiled. "I don't even know... I just wanted to see you taste my blood so badly..." She earned another hungry, horny glance from him and he softly let his fingers run over her body again. "Ilsa... " he whispered "You are everything I need... I love you..." Goosebumps formed all over her body when he had spoken those three words. All these years she had asked herself if he had feelings for her and now she finally had heard it. With a shaking, soft voice she replied "I love you, too, Karl... I love you with all my heart...". They kissed again, breathing deeply and he placed her hand over the left side of his chest. "Wind me up." Ilsa tilted her head. This last sentence had sounded so morbid... But he probably needed it. After all she didn't want him to run down while they were into something so beautiful and yet so spoiled... She smiled brightly, looking down on his swelling manhood again. Then she carefully laid her fingers on the beautiful golden dial over where a human's heart would be and carefully turned it twice, listening to the ticking. It sped up rapidly and Kroenen's whole body tensed up a little, his grip around her waist tightening. Graceful, metallic fingers gently pressed on her lower spine when he laid her down on the floor. An old, heavy carpet felt warm and soft against her skin and she allowed him to kneel between her spread legs. At this moment she didn't even see his ruined face. In front of her eyes she saw the beautiful Karl Ruprecht Kroenen in his mid-fourties. Looking much younger than he actually was, always dressed in an elegant suit one would have seen amongst the high society of the 1920s. His significant cheekbones, his eyes as blue as glaciers, his hair a beautiful blonde with only the slightest tone of yellow. The cool, distanted smile which never spread into his eyes...  
>She moaned softly when she felt the pressure of Kroenen's torso on her stomach and upper body. Slowly, carefully, he entered her, panting heavily and trying to keep the water in his mouth. He looked into her eyes again and she kissed him once more, their tongues teasing each other and making their owners moan with pleasure. With another swift movement he pushed his stiffened member completely inside of her, making her groan softly and wrap her arms around his slender shoulders. "If I cause you any pain, please tell me..." He gently breathed into her ear. The goosebumps on her body were back. Actually she had firmly believed this loving, caring side of him had died several decades ago. After all, he was a ruthless killer and played this role exceptionally well. But she nodded, watching small pearls of sweat form under his right eye. In a slow, gentle pace he started to move. Sliding in and out of her moist opening, she felt him shiver with excitement. With every movement, he touched her sensitive spots and after a few more thrusts, she arched her back with relish. She had seen his sex long enough to figure out it was well-grown and very beautiful. But inside of her slim, tight body, it felt gigantic. Kroenen moaned loudly, trying to fight back his climax, sweat now dripping from his neck onto her stomach. He clenched his teeth and hoarsely groaned "Hurry up, Ilsa... Please... I want to feel you..." he stopped for a moment, holding his breath and his face changed as if he was forcefully shutting his eyes. The urgency to orgasm became a little weaker and his face relaxed. Taking another deep breath, he looked at her face, then her beautiful breast, spreading her legs a little further so he could stay in a kneeling position. It gave him the opportunity to touch her clitoris and she winced with the intense sensation of his skilled, tender fingertips on this sensitive organ, loudly moaning his name. His left arm wrapped around her waist and pressed her onto his groin, then he thrusted into her again. Ilsa squealed along with his pace, biting her lips and her tongue. Karl watched her squirm in his arms, in his head though he went through the blueprint of his metallic spine.<br>After a few more minutes he felt her starting to contract forcefully around his erection. She looked at him with pleading eyes, then spoke in a low, very erotic voice. "I want to feel you come. I want your semen inside of me..." Karl swallowed hard, his thoughts exploding into numbness. Only his body existed now, wanting to let go. Wanting to release all this pressure into the beautiful woman before him. He stopped for a moment, changing his position again, ending up on top of her with her legs wrapped around his haunch. He resumed his thrusts into her small body, sliding in and out of the wetness between her legs. "Say my name... Say who is making you so horny, your fluids are running over his legs..." She cocked her head. Now this was a side of Kroenen she had never even imagined to be existent. And it didn't miss it's effects. She moaned loudly and whispered "Karl..." He smiled and gave her a demanding glance. "Louder." He wanted her so badly. And he wanted to feel her orgasm again. So he pushed into her even harder, his skin rubbing against her clitoris. She winced again, this time his name came out of her mouth as a shaky moan. "Come on, you can do better than that. Noone will hear us... Say it again... Louder..." His voice rattled and cracked with the incredibly strong need to have his orgasm. She spread her legs a little more, until she had him exactly where she needed it. She gasped for air. When she found herself only seconds from her climax, strong waves of sexual tension pulsing through her private parts constantly, she looked at him again. His face was covered in sweat and saliva, his teeth were clenched and he panted loudly with every thrust he gave her, tiny bubbles of water forming in the gaps between his dental arches. And even though it looked bizarre, his disfigured face staring at her with those huge lidless eyes, it felt better to her than anything she had ever had with a "normal" man. "Do it now..." she moaned "Let it come inside of me. I want to feel it..." His body tensed up again, but he kept going. His swollen organ pushed in and out of his beloved Ilsa, he wanted to please her first, no matter what she was saying. Then she squirmed again and started to scream his name again and again.  
>The slight movement of her inner muscles pushed him over the edge. He moaned loudly, his whole pelvis contracting and pulsating with a forceful, intense orgasm. His semen shot into her and she lost it, letting herself fall, just to be caught by his strong arms which now embraced her as they came almost simultaneously, panting heavily and moaning each other's name. She could feel his ejaculate fill her and some of it even spurted out again. Kroenen groaned loudly. It felt so unbelievably good to have the pressure in his groin finally fade away.<br>Warm arms now wrapped around his shoulders and a soft, sweet kiss was placed on his forehead. "I love you..." He looked up. Ilsa's eyes were closed and she had a lovely shine of red on her cheeks. "I love you, too... Promise we will be together now... I want to have you as my beloved..." She smiled broadly and stroked his head. "I promise... I am yours now. And you are mine..." Karl nodded and let his head rest on her shoulder, sighing deeply. "And you don't mind my awful appearance?" She opened her eyes and watched him sweetly bite her skin a little, lovingly running his tongue over it afterwards. "Kroenen, I don't see you as a faceless, skinny monster. Even if you for some reason can't believe that. When I looked at you earlier, I realized that I still see you as the handsome man I met in 1940. And I won't change my mind on that." An almost silent "Thank you..." came from his trembling teeth and he pressed his nose against her neck, inhaling her scent and smiling. After a few more minutes, when her heartbeat and the ticking of his clockwork had slowed down again, Ilsa felt her lover relax, his breathing became slower and deeper and his eyes rolled upwards until his pupils were gone completely. She placed her arms around his slim shoulders again, gently caressing the scarred, sutured skin on his upper arms. "I wonder if he will be able to sleep now... Or if he is able to sleep at all..." she thought. But then she decided to simply do the same, closing her eyes and trying to find some relaxation and rest. A short while passed. Very faintly, as if it were from far away, she felt his jaw open a bit and persistent, deep intervals of breath flew over her skin. But her mind was already too numb to think about it or even react. Her arms lost their grip on his body and softly sank on the carpet underneath the Nazis. Tranquility now filled the room which before had been thick with the aura of slight blood magic and sex. Everything went silent, except for the steady, hypnotizing ticking of the assassin's heart. Kroenen gently slipped into a state of deep, idle sleep for the first time in years. Usually he only slept when his body was very sick or gravely injured and therefore desperately needed rest. Or when he had been left alone for a little too long and sleep helped to keep him from going completely insane. But laying here, warm, closely snuggled up to the woman he loved probably even more than his master... It felt right. It simply felt like it was supposed to be this way.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

Kroenen spent a lot of time with his new books. Gathering incredible amounts of knowledge about magic, occultism, and how the world around him was functioning. After a few days he already had filled two notebooks with his jottings, small sketches and everything that came to his mind. His head seemed to work differently now, since he had been brought back to life. Due to his changed appearance, he decided to wear one of the gas masks he had designed a few years ago, when he left his flat in order to buy food or anything else he needed. He didn't want people to recognize him or to ask questions about his pale, starved looks. When he heard a loud, harsh knock on his front door, he raised his head and stared at the wooden entrance. A small, frustrated sigh came from the other side. Kroenen got up and opened, two stern, brown eyes looked into his pinched face. His visitor seemed startled. "I... uh... Doktor Karl Ruprecht Kroenen?" Karl tilted his head. "Who are you?" The smaller, stout man flinched at the hoarse, raspy voice. "My name is Sturmführer Niemitz. I'm an investigator for the GeStaPo. I'm looking for Doktor Kroenen. He hasn't been seen in months now and people are starting to be worried." Kroenen scrutinized him for a moment, then gestured him in. After he closed the door, he spoke up again. "What 'people' are you talking about?" Irritated by the giant stacks of books and strange artifacts, the investigator slowly responded. "The Thule Society. The SS. even the Great Führer himself." he stood at attention. "So, are you Doktor Kroenen?" Karl smiled viciously. "Yes I am. Why would they be worried? The Führer knows that I can be trusted. And if I retreat from public life, there are reasons. Good reasons." The stubby investigator smiled and pretended to take off his head, but the doctor clearly saw him wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. "I never questioned that. But you probably didn't receive Herr Himmler's letters." He pulled out two discrete envelopes with the note 'Urgent!' on them and handed them to the lean surgeon. "What is this?" Karl asked, questioningly looking at Niemitz. "I don't know. This is only meant for your eyes." Kroenen curiously turned the letters around, getting a knife from his kitchen. "Have a seat. Something to drink?" "A glass of water would be nice, thank you, Doktor." Niemitz sat down on one of Kroenen's beautiful chairs. His whole appartement was very nice. Clean, tidy, and neatly furnished. Skinny, pale hands set down a glass in front of him. "I have to apologize for all the books scattered about. Important studies, you know..." The investigator nodded and smiled warmly, watching Kroenen open the first of the envelopes. His cold, blue eyes flew over the lines and his mouth opened a little, revealing clean, white teeth and light rose gums. "... exceptionally proud to appoint you... the Führer's personal trust in you... commandant of WHAT?" Niemitz flinched and became smaller on his chair, when the doctor's eyes wandered to him. "This is real, is it? This isn't a stupid prank?" He nodded. "Of course. Why would I knock at your door every day since September only to play a joke on you?" Kroenen's graceful fingers grabbed the Sturmführer's shoulders. "Hitler appointed me the commandant of Auschwitz! This is great news! Thank you so much!"  
>This was everything he had ever wished for. Medical experiments without moral or values. He would be able to do everything. Everything he ever wanted to do to human beings. "I'm glad I could do you somthing good, Doktor Kroenen." The investigator stated and got up, ready to leave. "Could I ask one last thing of you, Herr Niemitz?" He turned around again. "Sure, what is it?" "Could you perhaps... not tell anyone you met me here? I know it sounds strange, but it's important... I can't have people bugging me here day and night... and it was like that until some months ago. I want to have my peace. I'm also willing to pay for it. I'm sure you have a family who would be happy to enjoy a nice, long vacation at my expense." The smaller man hesitated. The wages for officials weren't the highest ones and his children had never seen any other country. "But... I can't do that... I can't just lie to my supervisor..." Kroenen smiled at the sadness in his eyes. "How about Argentina? My best friend, Doktor von Klempt, says it's amazingly beautiful there. Or perhaps South Africa? Visiting free elephants and lions?" The Sturmführer buried his face in his hands. Kroenen kept going. "How about this: I'm planning to move by next March anyway. You hold your knowledge about me being here back until then, and I send you and your family on vacation. To the country of your choice. In one of those huge holiday resorts they build everywhere. Nothing is too expensive." Finally, after another moment of pondering, he finally shook Karl's hand and smiled awkwardly at the surgeon's calm, icy eyes. "Well then... I wish you a nice evening, Doktor Kroenen... And thank you..." Kroenen nodded and smiled, guiding his visitor outside. When he was gone and Karl was alone in his flat again, he immediately asked for his master, who appeared right in the shadows unter his stairs. "Did you know this, Master? That they would make me the commandant of their biggest concentration camp?" Rasputin smiled brightly and patted Kroenen's shoulder. "I thought it would provide great possibilities for your research and experiments on the fusion of steel and flesh. And you will have enough time to develop the portal generator." Karl grinned, shivering with excitement and gave his master an adoring glance. "Thank you so much, master. So I am allowed to accept the Führer's offer and go to Auschwitz?" Grigori nodded and turned around. "But there's one thing. You bought this huge residence in Southern Bavaria, didn't you?" "Yes, master." "You remember Ilsa von Haupstein?" "Yes master...?" Rasputin paused for a moment, listening to Kroenen's thoughts and all the curiosity in them. "She will move in there with you. When you return from the concentration camp. She will serve me at your side." With that, Karl's jaw dropped and his eyes widened even more. He blinked - and the master was gone. His heart clenched and painful memories of this one evening came up for a moment. But then he remembered how he had felt around her that night and he closed his eyes, bitterly smiling at the strong longing his soul had for this woman. And her eyes were back in his head, looking at him with all this hunger and desire. Regarding how good everything went since he had been revived, he actually felt ambitious and happy about it. Maybe this would finally be destiny's apologies for his messed up life. And Ilsa would perhaps be his... soulmate. And he honestly wished for it to be like that.<p>

Gathering all his clothes, books, phonograph and everything that meant something to him, he spent the rest of the day looking through cupboards and closets. Some time later, he huffed and let himself fall onto his couch, stretching and resting for a moment. Something that didn't exactly feel like his own thoughts, popped up in his head. "You should go out. Enjoy yourself. Perhaps get a woman for the night... You still look amazing..." Kroenen smiled and nodded in agreement, even though this actually wasn't his way of spending the nights. He would need to be open for change. And this was a good step on the way there. So half an hour later he found himself freshly showered, dressed in an elegant, black suit, dark grey vest and light blue shirt. A dark blue cravat around his neck, tied neatly and firmly. His blue eyes glistened with a thrill of anticipation and he smiled at his reflected image. "Amazing... I actually really don't look like I'm fourty-three... more like thirty..." he thought and touched his smooth face. By the master's magic - he assumed - most of his hair had grown back over night and his pale skin looked simply beautiful. On his way, he grabbed the silver pocket watch his favourite uncle once had given to him. "Clocks are better than humans, boy." he had said. "You can rely on them. Always. And if they make mistakes, you can simply adjust them."  
>About half an hour later he had found a nice little restaurant and a waiter had given him a wonderful table from where he could see a big, illuminated fountain. Karl smiled again, watching it for a moment, sadly reminded of how his children would have loved this if it weren't for the beasts who called themselves his ex-wifes. The waterdrops looked like a tiny rain of gold nuggets when they fell back into the fountain's bottom. "Sir? May I ask if you have already chosen something to drink?" A tall, slender waiter had approached him. "Suave wine. The sweetest you have. And perhaps a crewet of water." He nodded and hurried away into what Kroenen guessed was the kitchen. It wasn't long until a beautiful woman with a rather sad face entered the building and allowed the garcon to seat her. Her eyes looked tired and depressed, with a tiny shine of recently spilled tears in them. "Perfect..." Karl thought. When the waiter returned with the wine and water, Kroenen looked up to him. "Would you mind doing me a favor?" "What is it?" he glanced over to the woman again. "You see the lady with the slightly sad look on her face? I'll pay whatever she orders. But don't tell her until she is done with her dinner." The spindly, tall man stared at the doctor. "Are you serious?" He nods and smiles again. "I'm going to play magician and cast a smile on that little face of hers..." "Would you like to eat something as well, Sir?" Kroenen ordered a nice rumpsteak with potatoes and a bowl of salad. Licking his pale lips, the surgeon smiled to himself and feasted his eyes on the beautiful, young girl. She had ordered a warm soup with spaetzle and delicious marinated pot roast with potatoe dumplings, now sipping at a glass of white wine. Their glances met for a second, but she shyly lowered her gaze and sighed deeply. But she definitely had noticed his interested glance. She took one of the grissinis from the basket on her table and playfully ate it, from time to time looking up to check if he was still watching. It made Kroenen so horny... He put on a charming, meaningful smile and simply looked at her little game until his dinner was served. Kroenen enjoyed every little bite of it. After all his last meal had been several months ago. He happily discovered that even though the need for food was gone, his appetite and his sense for tasty food were still there. Taking his time, he slowly put small nibbles of it in his mouth, not without noticing when his object of desire received her food, eating almost as idly as he did himself. When she had swallowed the last bite of her roast and drunk another glass of white wine, she asked for the bill. Kroenen grinned and watched amusedly when the waiter pointed into his direction and told her "The gentleman with the dark blue tie pays your bill." Her mouth fell open and she unbelievingly got up and approached the satisfied doctor. "Excuse me, are you serious? You didn't just pay my dinner, did you?" But Karl nodded and looked at her. She smiled brightly and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you very much..." she blushed. "That's just what I wanted. I made you smile for a moment." She chuckled and sat down on the free chair next to Kroenen. "So you just bought me a whole dinner just because I'm sad today?" "Tell me what happened. I'm quite perceptive, you know... And I saw that you cried before entering this restaurant." She hesitated for a moment, probably wondering why she should trust a stranger, but then she shrugged it off. "You know, My mother died a few weeks ago. And some days ago my brother was reported lost in action - he fought at the east front, you know... And now I'm all alone..." she sighed again, wiping a small tear from her eye. "I am very sorry to hear that." Karl lied and softly touched her shoulder with one of his gloved hands. "This war is a horrible thing... so many innocent lifes are wasted... But where are my manners... My name is Karl." She shook his hand. "Inge. Pleased to meet you, Karl." "My pleasure. So... May I perhaps invite you to a dessert and some more wine? I could see you drinking the white one." She giggled and nodded, happy that someone made her forget her bad luck for a little while. They spent quite some more time sitting there and talking. Finally, it had gotten quite late by the time, they decided to leave. Kroenen left more than enough money on the table and they went outside.<br>While they were walking, she grabbed his hand and put it around her shoulder. "Thank you for this wonderful evening, Karl. You are one fine, lovely man." The slender doctor pulled her a little closer and chuckled. "Thank you. I just couldn't stand it to see such a beautiful young lady being sad. I hope I managed to cheer you up a little." Inge nodded. "Where do you live, Karl?" "An appartement, about twenty minutes from here... It's nothing special... I would invite you for some coffee or a nice little drink now, but that would be rude, I guess..." She pondered for a moment, then replied. "No, it would not be rude. In fact I'd gladly accept this invitation." He smiled and they leisurely wandered back to his flat.

When they arrived, he graciously bowed a little and opened the door for her. "I apologize for the... untidiness. I've been busy packing my things and then I preferred going out over cleaning up." She laughed heartily and rubbed her cheek against his slim shoulder, sighing deeply. "Your appartement is gorgeous!" Inge was stunned. Even though everything looked a little lost, since he already had packed his personal items, the well-spaced, luxurious flat made her interest into the doctor multiply by twelve. He gestured her to sit down on his couch, while he brought a small bottle of clear, sweet champagne and two glasses. She obviously enjoyed the nice view over Munich, looking out of the huge glass front of his appartement. Kroenen took advantage of her being distracted. He silently and swiftly cut his lower arm, letting a little of his blood drip into the glasses before filling them with the sparkly, golden liquid. Over the last few days he had become so obsessed with seeing his blood... At first it had unsettled him. But after a few more, deeper cuts, he had discovered how good it felt to watch himself bleed. He pulled his sleeve over the fresh wound and joined Inge in the living room, handing one of the glasses to her. They clinked glasses and both of them took a sip. The faint note of pain and pointlessly spilled blood added something dark to the whole situation. Kroenen's eyes grew darker and a hungry, lecherous smile crawled onto his face. Their glances met and they stayed like that for a moment. Inge definitely had sensed the different taste of her drink. But for some reason she wasn't able to talk, look away or leave, even if she had wanted to. This strange, otherworldly smile on his face... It didn't fit him. It didn't match the expression in his blue, cold eyes. "Follow me." he snarled, putting the glass on a small table and going upstairs. She obeyed, although she didn't know why.  
>In his comfortable, warm bedroom, he softened a little, his shoulders relaxed and sank down, his strict, sharp face became a little smoother. The smaller woman followed his motions and approached him, when he asked her to do so. His strong, graceful arms wrapped around her waist and his warm, rattling breath caressed her neck, teasing her with little bites and kisses.<br>They ended up in bed, Inge's small, slender body completely a slave to Karl's will. He knew he could control her. He knew she wouldn't scream or defend herself, no matter what he would do. First, he kept her calm, trying to... fulfill his needs. To his surprise and dismay, though, he found it rather difficult to get into the right kind of mood with her as stiff and silent as a corpse. Kroenen tried to make her move, but without practice and experience, he didn't really manage to control her body and simultaneously move his own. When he tried to soften his mental grip on her, she slumped on his bed, causing him to bury his face in his hands for a second. Then, one of the "foreign" thoughts popped up in his mind. "Drink some of her blood, give her some more of yours. And ask for everything you want her to do." He tilted his head, but reached into the drawer next to his bed and pulled out a beautiful, shiny scalpel. He smiled wistfully and sighed. He cut her roughly, tearing apart a bit of skin and flesh at her stomach. Blood poured from the deep wound and he lowered his head, greedily licking this new well of beautiful, foreign blood. He felt his whole body tense up immediately and groaned. Blood rushed into his sex and his whole groin pulsed forcefully. Now these were the feelings he had wished for. He got on top of her, raising her numb, but warm hips and tried to grant himself some fun. His thoughts ran wildly, switching rapidly from images of dead people, maimed bodies, self-mutilation and Ilsa. After a few minutes, he grabbed his scalpell again and cut into his upper arm. Pain and arousal immediately flashed through his body and made him moan delightfully. It wasn't the sex. It wasn't the naked woman or his fantasies. He cut himself again, this time deeper. Angry at the stupid woman whom he had tricked into coming here with him, he pulled out of her. Kneeling astride her stomach, he slowly started to dissect her. Tearing skin and muscles off her bones, gouging out her eyes. From time to time, between her now distinct groans and whimpers he touched his swollen, throbbing manhood, covering it in blood, both his and hers. This gave him so much more than simple sexual intercourse.

"That's why you love to kill up to this very day."

His younger self whom he had banished into he void inside his soul echoed in his ears. He grinned cruelly. Back then, when he had tripped his classmate down the stairs... of course it had felt good. It had felt so satisfying to hear his bones crack and the gurgling sound of his last breath... Kroenen closed his eyes for a moment.  
>But what he now had... was bigger. Better. He looked down on the ruined, twitching remains of a woman he barely knew. And he didn't feel satisfied. Of course, the sight of his sperm merging with all the blood on the bedsheets, his legs and the devastated carcass, pleased him and had fulfilled his desire to relieve his sex drive...<br>But the state he now felt himself in, was bloodlust. Perhaps even full-grown blood rage.  
>Kroenen got up and into the room where he kept his weaponry and uniforms. The black leather combat uniform from the Waffen SS. Two daggers. Two releasable blades in his sleeves. His favorite black gas mask. Self-satisfied he put on the black hat with the shiny silver skull. This would be an appropriate farewell to Munich. He would leave tomorrow. But the blood on the streets and buildings would stay for days, if not weeks. And they all would see. See, what their shallow, insignificant society had done to a once respected and admired surgeon.<p>

A man, who had spent almost 20 years saving lives, now stepped outside of his appartement, licking his teeth hungrily. Hungry for revenge. For blood. The master's voice came up in his head for a moment. "Don't hesitate."  
>This was all he needed.<br>Ready.

For killing spree.


End file.
